


The Paradise Affliction

by RosaClearwater



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Gen, H/C fix, Paradise Syndrome fix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 07:18:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11984910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosaClearwater/pseuds/RosaClearwater
Summary: “AnothercalculatedVulcan risk, Doctor.” The cool remark had been uttered in a detached manner. And said remark refused to do anything but clutch onto his brain. It trailed his shadow as he paced the corridors, it echoed through the sounds of the ship.And it fueled the underlying concern he had for the idiot.





	The Paradise Affliction

**Author's Note:**

> As much as I enjoy the Spock & Bones scenes of “The Paradise Syndrome” -- even if I don’t necessarily care for said episode -- there is one thing I had a slight issue with. This is my way of changing it.
> 
> Enjoy!

“Another _calculated_ Vulcan risk, Doctor.” The cool remark had been uttered in a detached manner. And said remark refused to do anything but clutch onto his brain. It trailed his shadow as he paced the corridors, it echoed through the sounds of the ship.

 

And it fueled the underlying concern he had for the idiot.

 

Spock who had been staring into that obelisk for days now. Spock who hadn’t entered the Mess Hall in far too long a time. Spock who was losing that damn Vulcan logic of his to his stubbornness.

 

As scared as Bones was -- for the ship, for Jim, for Spock -- he also knew he couldn’t do anything if he allowed that fear to inhale harsh anger and exhale calming control.

 

Which is why he entered the quarters of the Vulcan with more than just a tricorder.

 

…

 

“I thought you were reporting to Sick Bay.” Of course, were they really surprised that this hadn’t been the case?

 

“There isn’t time, Doctor: I must decipher those obelisk symbols. They’re a highly advance form of cipher writing.”

 

Now, Bones was a doctor first and foremost but he had to admit that he thrived on science. He’s had his intellectual discussions with many of the science crew -- Spock included -- and he’s examined many a theoretical question.

 

And, quite frankly, he couldn’t give a damn about that obelisk or its unknown symbols.

 

“You’ve been trying to do that ever since we started back to that planet -- 58 days!”

 

“I’m aware of that, Doctor.” Of course he was. The green-blooded hobgoblin was aware of everything. “I’m also aware that when we arrive at the planet, we will have barely four hours to effect rescue.”

 

It was at this remark that Bones turned back into Dr. McCoy and stared down his current patient in a detached, observing manner.

 

“I believe those symbols are the key.”

 

_Well, you won’t read them by killing yourself._ Was the well-intentioned beration he wanted to shout. After all, Spock had steadily been losing his energy to this mystery for almost two months now. But, this was Spock. And, if there was anything that Dr. McCoy had learned over these years, it’s that emotion draws out the walls of logic.

 

So, as much he’d like to throttle the hobgoblin, a different approach would be required.

 

“Spock,” The half-Vulcan reinforced his weary posture at the change in tone, unsure of where this conversation was now going. “Wouldn’t it be logical to pause to conserve energy? To briefly meditate and allow your thoughts to come together?” That’s when the tricorder came out. “After all, your Vulcan metabolism is far too low to be measured and--”

 

“My physical condition is not important, Doctor. That obelisk is.”

 

_And that’s where you’re wrong, Spock._

 

Fortunately, the doctor recognized the situation for what it was: a situation brought on by overwork and guilt.

 

“Jim would have made the same decision, Spock.”

 

And that’s when he almost got through to the man. The smallest of trembles showed for a split second, almost unnoticeable unless you knew exactly what you were looking for.

 

But,  as the old Earth saying goes, almost only counts for horseshoes and hand grenades.

 

“Doctor,” The Vulcan was trying to have none of it -- clearly nearing the end of his rope.

 

“No, Spock. You and I both know why you’re doing this. And he would’ve done the same.” He breathed. “My diagnosis is exhaustion brought on by overwork and guilt. And my prescription is rest. Whether you do that in Sick Bay or here is up to you, but you _will_ rest.”

 

Spock merely stared at him before moving to lie down and follow doctor’s orders for once.

 

Which only confirmed Bones’s suspicion that he wasn’t going to rest at all.

 

The doctor wasn’t fooled for a moment as he watched his CO gracefully lie down on the bed, seeming to humor his prescription for once.

 

But, two could play at the stubborn game.

 

…

 

He had actually followed Spock back to his corridors. Jim, bless his recovering heart, was completely oblivious -- and would soon be in checked in on as well.

 

For exhaustion currently outweighed heartbreak. And when Leonard had spotted the trembles coming back to haunt the First Officer he knew it was necessary to be the overbearingly obstinate one this time.

 

“Doctor, I assure you--”

 

“Save it, Spock. Unless you’d rather I drag you back to Sick Bay to prove how _illogical_ you’ve been acting.” Because they both knew that a more illogical desire to punish himself and save the day had been pumping energy into those icy veins.

 

Spock halted at this, letting a sharply defined eyebrow raise in a primly manner. But, that had no effect on the weary doctor who merely pointed to the Science Officer’s bed.

 

“Now, this time, I prescribe sleep. Not rest. _Sleep_. Because even though full night’s worth of sleep won’t be nearly enough to repair the damage, it’ll be a start.” And because he was already heading in the direction of bed, Bones was almost willing to ignore the stumble Spock experienced.

 

But,  as the old Earth saying goes, almost only counts for horseshoes and hand grenades.

 

“Bed. Now, Spock.”  He had been veering off towards the desk.

 

“Doctor--” Now, the half-goblin was feigning an attempt to correct his course.

 

_“Bed.”_ But the good doctor wasn’t fooled for a moment.

 

“Doctor--” You’d really think the hobgoblin would just give up. But, no, not their hobgoblin.

 

“If you do not lie down within the next minute, the Captain will be receiving a full report of the last two months -- a full report that entails every single detail of your blatant recklessness. Because that’s how you’ve been acting, Spock: reckless. You’ve been playing games with your life, games that’re worthless because they’ll destroy all the energy you’ve got.” And he still wasn’t quite done. “Now, do you really want Jim to find out about all of that right now? Or wouldn’t you rather just settle your skinny self into bed?” It was a cheap shot to use emotional blackmail but it got the intended effect: the half-Vulcan immediately allowed himself to dip into bed.

 

And once that happened, Leonard dimmed the lights. But this time he stayed in the room. After all, he had the time to ensure that Spock’s breathing was evening out and that he was allowing his body to recuperate.

 

And, this time, he wasn’t taking any chances.

 

“Finally.” He muttered to himself after his friend had finally allowed himself to fall into blissful sleep.

 

Now, it was true that Leonard loved Spock for his stubbornness. That he applauded that stubbornness when it came to sticking up to self-righteous Admirals and stuffy Vulcan traditions.

 

But sometimes said stubbornness made him want to strangle the idiot.

**Author's Note:**

> And this is why I shouldn't write around midnight. Nevertheless, there was a tiny shoutout to one of my favorite Bones & Spock oneshots (a FFN one, to be precise). Did you see it? :)


End file.
